Page 71 of The Earl's Reluctant Artist
“Lord Vale,” Marcus’s voice cut in. He had followed him out, glass in hand. “I wanted to continue where we left off. The finer details—”
“You must excuse me,” Tristan said, his tone firm. “I promised my wife I would join her.”
Without waiting for a response, he crossed the square. Eliza looked up as he approached, her smile widening.
“You came,” she said.
“Of course,” he answered.
A boy tugged at his hand, urging him to sit. Tristan lowered himself beside Eliza. At once, the children crowded them, showing him the small wooden toys they carried.
“Do you like soldiers, my lord?” one of them asked.
Tristan examined the little carving. “Yes. Though I prefer when they are at rest.”
Eliza laughed, nudging him gently. “They never believe you smile, you know. You had best prove them wrong.”
“I smile,” Tristan said, his face completely blank. “On occasion.”
The children giggled, and one girl offered him a biscuit. He hesitated at first, but Eliza kept her eyes on him until he took it. The taste of sugar lingered in his mouth as he chewed, and the children laughed once again.
For the next few minutes, they played together, tossing a ball, passing it between them while the children shrieked with delight. Tristan found himself watching Eliza more than the game.
The way she listened intently when the children spoke. The way her hands moved with elegance. Even the sound of her laughter was enough to draw his attention.
Would she be like this if they had children?
He swallowed, the thought almost catching him off guard. Why in God’s name was he thinking about children? Was it the look of peace that settled on Eliza’s face? Or was it something else? Something he couldn’t explain. Something he didn’t want to explain?
He watched the smile on Eliza’s face disappear and narrowed his eyes. The laughter had completely faded, and her gaze had shifted across the square.
Tristan followed it.
Marcus stood near a stall, his wine glass raised at her. Then he turned to the men beside him and toasted them as well.
Eliza’s expression tightened, and Tristan felt his jaw clench. He had thought this would be something he wouldn’t have to interfere in, but it was rather clear now.
Something was going on between Eliza and her brother, and he would have to ask her about it.
Chapter 18
The sun had not dimmed yet, but the clouds at the far edge of the sky swelled in a heavy gray. Eliza tilted her head back, lifting one hand to shield her eyes.
“It looks like it is going to rain,” she said, her voice half playful and half certain.
Tristan, standing at her side with his hands clasped behind his back, did not even look up. “I doubt it.”
“It is barely noon and the edges of the sky are beginning to grow dark,” she teased, lowering her gaze to him. “That is certainly the threat of rain.”
“It rarely rains around here, no matter how dark the sky gets,” Tristan responded, calm and sure. “Trust me, we will have a clear day.”
Eliza pursed her lips and lifted her hand in mock surrender. “Very well. When we are drenched and wandering in search of shelter, I shall remind you of this moment. We should at least make arrangements for an inn nearby just in case.”
“There is no need for that, because you know why?” Tristan said again, his tone almost stubborn. “It is not going to rain.”
“Fine.” She smiled despite herself. “Then follow me to the market.”
Tristan cast one glance toward the square where Marcus and the others still lingered, then back to her. “There is still time before the lords arrive. Very well. Lead the way.”
